


Eridan and the Deathly Hallows

by Nanibgal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Deathly Hallows, Eridan playing with magic, Established Relationship, M/M, death by old age, really like half the cast is dead at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6301807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanibgal/pseuds/Nanibgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seadwellers tend to outlive their quadrantmates, and some take it better than others.  After his husband passes away, Eridan will do anything to have him back- and three strange artifacts might help him steal Dave Strider from death.</p>
<p>Magic has a cost, and Eridan has no idea of the price he'll have to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eridan and the Deathly Hallows

The inevitable happens, and you outlive him.

 

He is only human, after all, and you have much in store beyond him- power, adventure, and other loves and losses. The life of a seatroll is to be full of loss and triumph.

 

But you sit in your quiet little human style house with a black urn in your lap and you don’t want loss or triumph. You have nothing left to lose. You have nothing more to celebrate except the fact that for a few brief decades, Dave Strider called you his.

 

You run your hands on the edges of the urn. It’s cold and elegant, nothing that he was. Your Dave would have laughed to see what you’d picked to house his ashes in, and maybe would have laughed at the irony.

 

What the hell did he mean by ‘irony’? After all this time, you never really knew what was ironic for him, and for a while you decided it must be some incomprehensible human thing. His clothes were ‘ironic’, his popular comic was ‘ironic’, the way he spoke and made ridiculous metaphors and casually humored your more romantic inclinations were ‘ironic’.   You’re fairly certain that you first started dating because it was ‘ironic’.

 

But the aviator sunglasses he wore weren’t ironic, you learned after a time. They were a treasured gift and they were on his forehead the day he died. Most of his music was ironic except for the songs that weren’t, the songs that you play throughout the house to make it less empty. He mixed tracks of the ocean waves in with what he called a ‘sick beat’, heavy bass and violins, and the first time you ever heard it, you wept and thought of your marooned ship and your lusus and the rolling waves of the Alternian ocean.

 

That very song was on repeat, with speakers spread throughout their home so that you wouldn't be subjected to silence.

 

How had you not seen the lines on his face? The thinning of his hair and the slowness in his movements? While your aging slowed to nearly a stop, his went on and on, just like all the warmbloods you ever considered ‘friends’. When Tavros died, you felt grief but not surprise- he clung to life by his teeth and it was amazing he lived as long as he did. Aradia left behind a trail of mourners, and she smiled as she was entombed in the human tradition.

 

No one was mourned as Karkat was. Tears were shed in every hue for him- the Scion of the Sufferer, the friendleader of your group of fools, the only troll to leave such a shadow at the wake of his death. The humans wept their strange clear tears for him, even your Dave sat with you that night when you just wanted to put away your black suits for good.

 

John died. Sollux died. Rose died. Nepeta died. Jade died. The last time you had seen Kanaya, she looked tired; you feared that she was catching this disease known as ‘old age’ as well.

 

And even then, even then, you didn’t look at Dave and see an old man. Even when his friends fell like flies to the whims of Time, even when Dave looked forlornly at a katana on the mantle, in your eyes he was still the young man you’d met decades ago and would remain so until you had spent centuries together, at least.

 

So you clutched the little urn and stared at the floor, but instead of seeing stringy blue fibers you saw Dave’s body, blessed with sacred water, adorned with flowers, his shades atop his head and his wedding band on his finger, getting pushed into a small oven and set on fire. Equius was the only one who could hold you back. Feferi calmed you and cradled you like you were five sweep old moirails again.

 

Your door has remained shut and your every received message unanswered. You had no need for comfort, only Dave. The little urn that held his ashes would not suffice, but you walked with it close to your chest and went to sleep with it on the nightstand by your recoupracoon.


End file.
